Refuse to See
by Gomes
Summary: [GC] Don't lose sight of the things that matter...xXChapThreeXx
1. Don't Know

TITLE: Damned Are They Who Refuse to See

AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnomeyahoo.com)

ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know so I can brag...hehe.

SPOILERS: Meh...probably.

RATING: Strong R

DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.

SUMMARY: Don't lose sight of the things that matter...

NOTES: This is slightly darker than my other fics, but I'm trying to experiment a bit. I tried to be as scientifically correct as possible, so any errors are my own fault.  
  
-----  
  
"It's all clear." The guard stepped aside, allowing the two CSIs to enter the bright hallway of Fremco Laboratories.  
  
"What a waste of energy." Catherine Willows noted, her eyes travelling the rows of lights, fixed to the ceiling.  
  
Gil Grissom glanced at his partner, then up to the ceiling. "Actually, they're halogen," he shrugged, "saves more energy."  
  
"Doesn't mean they can keep it running twenty-four hours a day." She reasoned, stopping in front of the laboratory door. Catherine grimaced, "uh, you smell that?"  
  
"Decomposition in its finest form?" Gil offered, cocking his head to the side. He snapped a pair of gloves on, and listened to Catherine echo the same motions. Bending down, he opened his kit and retrieved some powder and a fingerprint brush.  
  
Catherine watched him intently, observing his technique. One thing she had learnt on the job was that no one was above learning; everyday, she would pick up another method of examination, or understand a concept to a higher degree. It was one of the reasons why she always jumped at the occasion to work with her supervisor and long-time friend: he would never deny her a chance to become even more educated. Opening up her own kit, she took out a piece of tape, and placed it over the area, peeling back a fingerprint. "Don't know how valid it is, it's just a partial." She logged the evidence, and tucked it into the case. "Besides, it's an office," she glanced around the hallway, her eyes taking in a multitude of doors, "pretty public place."  
  
Gil nodded, not arguing with her logic. Closing his kit, he reached for the door and gently swung it open. Clicking on his flashlight, he quickly surveyed the scene before stepping into the office.  
  
"Professor John Frempton – Fremco Laboratories, owner no doubt." Catherine picked up the name plate that lay on the desk. She rounded the corner and shook her head.  
  
"How bad?" Gil asked, coming around the other side.  
  
"Looks like he bled out." She observed the immediate surroundings. "All over his lab coat, pants, blood splatter on the wall and floor." She glanced up at her supervisor. "I think he was bludgeoned to death." She swabbed some blood from the pool that lay still, surrounding the victim in a red liquid casket.  
  
"Hey guys." David Phillips stepped in, and then stepped back out of the room. "Oh, I don't deal well with blood." He held a handkerchief to his nose and mouth.  
  
Gil motioned the body. "We need a liver temp, and then you can take him back to Robbins." He instructed the young pathologist.  
  
David nodded and bent down beside Gil, taking out the thermometer. Pressing it into a specific place in the abdomen, he read the deceased's liver temperature. "It's seventy-five degrees." He looked at the temperature again. "That's a big drop – there's no decomposition –"  
  
"- No decomp?" Catherine interrupted. "Then what was that smell?" Her face scrunched up slightly, she questioned both men.  
  
"Seventy-five degrees..." Gil repeated, deep in thought. "Doesn't that seem," he frowned, "comfortable, to you?" It was a rhetorical question, and David shared a look with Catherine.  
  
"I guess." David shrugged.  
  
"He's only been dead less than two hours." Gil agreed. "Alger mortis – Latin for 'cold death', where the body temperature falls, but to the surrounding room temperature." He stood up, and searched the room, finally finding the object of his desire. He pointed to a small digital thermometer fastened to the wall, beside the door. "Eighty-five degrees."  
  
"So if he's been dead for two hours, then why is the smell of a decomposing body in the air?" Catherine questioned again, searching the room. She walked up to a seemingly hidden closet, wallpapered over with only the door- handle as a hint to its existence. Opening the door slowly, she came into contact with a body. "Oh God!" She screamed, her arms flailing as she felt herself falling back.  
  
"Cath!" Gil rushed to her side, tipping the body over and helping her to her feet. "You okay?" He asked, lowering his head slightly to catch glimpse of expression. "It's okay." He held on to her forearm, still trying to read her state.  
  
"I'm fine." She batted his hand away, "I'm just..." She let out a shiver, and wrapped her arms around her slender frame.  
  
Gil took off his glove, and brought his hand to cup her cheek. "Do you want to go sit-down or take some air?" He asked quietly, watching David cart the body away before returning his attention back to the strawberry-blond in front of him.  
  
Catherine closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I'm okay..." She glanced back at the body and then turned around abruptly. "I'm going to take a breather." She all-but ran out the door.  
  
Gil closed his eyes sadly, hearing her heave and empty her stomach in the hallway. "I'm sure the janitor won't mind." He called out to her, slowly making his way around the room. He smiled when moments later, a "shut up" danced its way to his ears. Letting out a chuckle, he heard water running from hallway and guessed his partner's current status. Allowing her to regain her composure, he decided to search the office by himself.

* * *

Catherine leaned against the wall, half shuddering and half cursing herself for her temporary weakness. She hadn't been physically effected at a scene since her rookie year, and she often prided her control when the rest were revisiting their last meal. Wiping an errant repercussive tear away, she closed her eyes, trying to calm her erratic heart beat.

* * *

Gil stepped up to a large shelving unit, placed several inches in front of the wall. His eyes traveled the various vials of liquids, each identified by their scientific abbreviations. Specimens lay suspended in jars, and stacks of paper cluttered several other shelves. Rocks and minerals proudly stood ground beside awards for various achievements in the scientific realm. His eyes shot up upon hearing a noise, almost like a metal-on-metal 'clink'. Nearing the end of the metallic unit, he narrowed his eyes, concentrating not on the shadows in the darkened room, but on the noise that the shadows might have been making.  
  
"Don't move!"  
  
Gil jumped and turned around, his hand fumbling for his service gun. Placing a hand over his heart, he shook his head. "David..."  
  
"Careful Grissom – you were about to trip over that shoe." David pointed to Gil's feet, where a random shoe lay partly wedged between the wall and the shelving unit, half sticking out.  
  
"Thanks, could be the vic's." Gil nodded and watched the young coroner place the body on a cart.  
  
"Man, what a smell, huh?" David attempted to make conversation. "I'd say, advanced level of decomposition....at least a month or so. Skin's almost worn off, the bones here," he pointed to a protruding bone near the knee, "have yellowed tremendously, and I would assume this to be the beginnings of decay." He began to push the body out of the office. "Man, who would keep a decomposing body in there?!" He asked himself.  
  
Gil shrugged, eyeing the make-shift tomb. "I guess we all have skeletons in our closet." He raised his eyebrow, giving a half-grin to David, who obviously enjoyed his humour. After a few moments of pondering, Gil donned another pair of gloves and bent down to reach the stray footwear. Feeling the tip of the shoe, the part in sight, he noted the steel-toed shell that the shoe boasted. Grabbing the camera Catherine had been using earlier to acquire pictures of the victim, he snapped a few of the shoe's placement and placed the camera back near the desk. Kneeling down, he attempted to lift the shoe.

* * *

Catherine shuddered again, having just watched David cart the DB away. She shook her head, readying herself to join her supervisor back in the room when a loud crash sounded from the crime scene. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the room, only to be brutally knocked to the side by a masked figure, who proceeded to flee the scene. She considered giving chase, but her gut instructed her to check on Gil.

* * *

"Oh God! Gil!" She ran into the room, trying desperately to remove the metal shelving unit off his body. "Say something!" She pleaded, kicking pieces of glass and broken jars out of the way.  
  
"Cath?" His voice was soft, pained. "Cath...I can't see..." His hand flailed blindly, aching to come into contact with the safety of her body. "What happened?" He cringed, hearing the crunch of glass beneath his hand. He felt her arms around his shoulders, and using his diminishing strength, he managed to aid her into getting his body freed from the unit's weight.  
  
"Oh God! Gil – Gil we have to get you to the fountain." Catherine started pulling his body towards the exit, no longer caring whether the suspect had fled – right now, her friend's safety was all she cared about. Glass and awards shattered under their feet as Catherine raced Gil to the eye- fountain located right outside the room. She thrust his head in the cool jets, allowing the water to flush out the remnants of the liquid that had cruelly greeted him.  
  
Gil gripped the side of the fountain, feeling the cool spray calm the fire that seemed to have been burning deep behind his retinas. "What's happening to me...?"  
  
She couldn't deny the vulnerability in his voice, and she kept a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles of comfort. Flipping her phone on, she barked orders to send an ambulance right away before returning to her worries. "Feeling better? Can you see..." She had seen the vial, broken by his head and the inscription terrified her. Thoughts jumped back to Chemistry class and she realized she did not know enough of the substance to console him further.  
  
"I still can't see, Catherine." Gil said softly, his eyes once again soaking up the coolness from the fountain. "What happened?"  
  
Catherine bit her lip, her other hand finding the nape of his neck. She let her fingers roam the curls at the base, trying to figure out how to tell him.  
  
"Catherine..." Gil warned her, trying to force her to reveal her knowledge. "What happened?" It was more demanding, bordering irate.  
  
She couldn't blame him for the anger that began to surface – she herself was filled with ire, directed at the suspect, directed at herself more-so. «How could I have just left him?» She berated herself. "When he pushed the shelving unit down, a lot of the vials broke..." She began. "Do you remember coming into contact with anything?" She asked, leaning closer to him.  
  
Gil sighed, the water cascading down his face. Pain forced him to keep his eyes closed, and he hissed slightly; the burning sensation still present, battling his eyes against the fountain's splash. "I did feel some cool liquid and some glass shards." He let out a small grunt. "It smelt really bad and burned immediately, and I thought some glass shards might have –"  
  
"Diglycidyl Ether." Catherine blurted out.  
  
"What?" He went to lift his head up to see, but felt her hand push it down.  
  
"Keep flushing until the paramedics get here." She ordered him. "It's highly acidic – which explains the burning...I don't know what else to say." She replied truthfully.  
  
"It's a colorless liquid that has this strong odor to it." He let out a sigh. "It's a controlled substance, regulated by OSHA. It's on the Hazardous Substance List." He said, his voice becoming almost monotonous. "I'm a little tired, Cath."  
  
"Stay with me, Gil...just keep talking." Catherine begged him, her eye catching sight of the EMTs rushing towards her. "Reaction to a chemical spill!" She called out, and watched as one tended to Gil, setting up the stretcher, while the other closed the door of the contaminated office, and placed a cautionary sticker.  
  
"No one is allowed to enter until we have given the get-go!" He ordered her, helping the other paramedic with the stretcher. "What happened?"  
  
"Diglycidyl Ether!" Catherine jogged beside the paramedic. "He was exposed to it, came into contact with it. He's been flushing his eyes for the last ten minutes or so." She watched as the paramedic loaded him into the vehicle and closed the doors in her face. She stood there, watching the van pull out of the parking-lot and head towards Desert Palms. "Gil – be strong." She whispered, watching it disappear down the street.  
  
Jim Brass walked up to the strawberry-blond. "I just heard the end of that conversation...will he be okay?" He asked sincerely, his own fears betraying his voice.  
  
"I don't know." She didn't take her eyes off the road last traveled by her best-friend.  
  
"Will you be okay?" He asked her this time, concern present.  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
---TBC--- 


	2. Always

(Disclaimers et all in first chapter)

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

Catherine walked down the bland hallways of the Desert Palms Hospital, a certain blue-eyed man being her incentive for anxiety. She watched as a doctor emerged from his room, shaking his head. Stopping in front of his door, she peered in and what her eyes witnessed tore at her heart. "Oh Gil…" She whispered to herself, aching to ease his pain. She opened the door and stepped in quietly, just standing and observing his form; he was lying on his back, his head tilted to the side, facing in the opposite direction. She remained, observing him in his sleep.

"You can come in, you know." Gil said suddenly, not facing her direction. He cocked his head to the side, listening to the shuffling that was occurring a few feet away.

"How did you know?" Catherine asked, a little surprised.

"The way you move." He smiled a little. "Your shampoo…" He knew she had grabbed a curl and brought it to her nose, inhaling her own scent to prove his statement wrong. "Also blind hope that you would come." He cringed slightly at his slip-up, dropping his voice a little.

"Do the doctors know you're awake?"

He chuckled morosely. "No."

"But there was one just in here - how could he have not known?" She listened to the heart monitor, the constant tone beginning to comfort her body.

He shrugged, sitting up in his bed. "I pretended to be asleep." His lips finally curved downwards, fighting the fake smile he tried desperately to obtain. "I hate the fact that I need someone, Cath." He admitted, finally facing her.

"We all need someone to help us from time to time, Gil." She brought her hand to the side of his face, her fingers barely brushing the bandage wrapped around his eyes. "You know I'll always be here for you…"

"I'm not used to it." He stated, bordering on childish. "But," he leaned into her touch, "I'm glad that it's you."

She smiled at him, and they fell into a comfortable silence; Gil just listening to her breathe, and Catherine just staring at his cloth-covered eyes. She missed his blues terribly and wanted desperately to catch sight of them one last time.

"So..."

She glanced up, meeting his bandaged eyes. The scraping of her chair echoed through the room as she drew herself nearer.

"Did you speak to the doctor?" He tried to sound casual, but she could make out the nerves tingling in his voice.

She nodded, pressing her lips together, unable to speak.

He more than felt her response, he dropped his head to his chest, his words almost lost to her. "What did he say?"

"Why didn't you ask him when he came in earlier, Gil?"

He shrugged lethargically, slowly easing his head on his pillow. "I didn't trust my reactions..."

She smiled slightly, touched that he trusted himself around her - that she gave him a small amount of courage to press on.

"So...what's the verdict?"

Her eyes were cast downwards, and she knew her voice was not strong enough to carry words. "Um...that you've been," she let out a sigh, trying to delay his pain, "you've been blinded." She swallowed hard, the simple act of searching comfort in his eyes still an automatic response. However, a white gauze bandage shed no light on his emotions.

"How did it happen?"

A tear escaped, scared at the eery calm tone his voice held. "When the suspect pushed that shelving unit on you...there was a flask of acid located there." She paused, trying to assess his reaction. "It shattered and..." She brought her chair even closer, grasping his hand. Her eyes drifted to his non-responsive hold. "Gil?"

Moments passed and she saw him turn his head, following her voice. He didn't speak immediately and she could tell he was fighting hard to keep his emotions in check. "What?"

"I'm so sorry Gil..." She whispered, bringing his knuckles up to her lips. "It should have been me. I should have been the one to -" She admitted, tears now evident in her voice.

" - better me than you." He replied honestly, finally offering some strength back to her. "Lindsey, you...you've been through so much already." He let out a sad sigh, silently enduring the burning sensation behind his eyes, feeling as though his tears carried minute amounts of acid every time they were shed. "Me...this only affects me."

"And me." Catherine cut in, without missing a beat. "And Lindsey, and the team..even your God-forsaken critters!" She attempted a joke, trying only to win some emotion from him. She drew her knees to her chest, her hand still gripping his, unwilling to break contact.

"Is it permanent? ...the damage?" He asked in a leveled voice, seemingly searching for statistics rather than sentiments.

"They don't know." Again, her voice dropped to a whisper. "But the doctor said that flushing your eyes has decreased the damage." She offered, knowing it was futile. She turned suddenly, watching as the doctor entered, followed by a slightly nurse.

"Mr. Grissom? I'm doctor Francis - glad to see you are awake. We were beginning to get a little worried." He smiled, the humour in his tone revealing his knowledge of the staged slumber that had occurred earlier. "I'll be checking in on you periodically throughout the night, so we can assess the damage." He reached for the bandage. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

Catherine strained to see, but quickly glanced away, witness to his pain. Her eyes finally traveled back to his, scanning them despite knowing that he saw nothing but darkness. His lovely blues were now paled to a baby blue, almost daring to a white shade. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Okay, well," the doctor cleared his throat, "you are legally blind as of now, but I do have news."

"Good news or bad news?" Catherine asked anxiously, sitting up in her chair.

The doctor shrugged. "Neither...I can't say for sure, but the next week will be crucial, and either his restoration or deterioration will decide his future."

The doctor took leave, after having applied a new bandage, allowing Catherine to remain watching over Gil. She let her fingers dance through his curls and then down over his covered eyes. "Sleep..." She coaxed him, her hand now cupping his cheek. "I'll be here when you wake..." She listened to his heart rate slow, keeping an even rhythm and waited until she knew that he had indeed given in to slumber's demand.

Bending over the bed, she released her emotions, weeping openly for the trials this man had to overcome - for the tragedy he had to face and finally vowing to be with him for every breath he took, no matter the outcome. "I'll always be here, Gil..." She whispered, as exhaustion finally tempted her into an unwelcome sleep.

–TBC–


	3. Being Strong

(Disclaimers et all in first chapter)  
**---------------  
Chapter 3**

She awoke upon feeling the bed under her upper-torso move. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light from the window, and she glanced at the man now sitting in bed.

"Is it nice outside today?" He asked, his voice still lacking emotion.

Catherine glanced out, squinting as the sun began to warm her skin. "Yeah..." She took his hand, and placed it in direct sunlight. "Feel?"

He nodded and glanced at her, wishing he could see her face. He feared weakness, afraid that if he gave in to the severity of his accident, he would lose the battle. He had to remain strong, if not for himself, but for her - his heart. His heart broke that night, hearing her cries as sleep finally calmed her.

"The doctor said I could go home today." He spoke, as if he was discussing some trivial matter.

Catherine's brow furrowed, not understanding how he could hide his emotions so well. «Denial.» "Gil..." She knew he had to accept his accident and the longer he put it off, the harder it would be to face reality.

"Gil," she began softly, speaking to him as if he were a child. "Do you know what happened?"

His brow furrowed as he turned his head, listening to her voice. "What do you think?" He replied a little harshly. After a moment, he lowered his head slightly. "...sorry."

Catherine put a hand on his bicep. "It's okay. That's the first sign of emotion you've given me since your accident..."

"I guess I just deal with things differently." He admitted, twisting his hands nervously.

Catherine withdrew her hand. "Things? Gil, these aren't things! You're blind! Don't you get it?" Her emotions, repressed since the night, exploded in a frenzy of words she could no longer control.

He sat in silence, listening to her rant and rave. "What do you want me to do, Catherine? Rip off the bandage, say it was all a joke? I can't change what happened, and getting upset won't make me see."

She listened to his heart monitor, noting it's now erratic path and she sat down hard in the chair. "Look, I'm sorry it's just that..." She placed the back of her palm against her trembling lips.

Gil sighed, hating to see her hurting. "Cath." He held out his hand and grasped hers, gently caressing her palm with his fingers. "Don't cry - it'll be okay, I promise."

"How did you know I was crying?" She sniffled discreetly.

"You stopped talking." He offered, a slight smile in its wake. He grimaced upon feeling her hand come into contact with his shoulder.

"Wise guy."

Gil's smile faded, and he continued to stare in her direction. "I need you to stay strong for me."

Catherine nodded, and observed the doctor entering the room. "I promise, Gil. I promise."

"Mr. Grissom? Feeling better today?" Dr. Francis asked, taking off the bandages to log Gil's evolution. "Miss Willows?" The doctor called Catherine, while still inspecting Gil's eyes. "May I have a word with you, outside?" He instructed the nurse to bandage up his eyes again, to avoid any longterm exposure to harsh lights and stepped outside the room.

"I didn't want to say anything there, as not to get Mr. Grissom's hopes up, but I have some good news." Dr. Francis leaned against the wall.

Catherine looked at him expectantly, holding her breath in anticipation.

"Well, you remember the red blotches that were swimming around in his eyes; the burns due to the acid?" After receiving a confirming nod, Dr. Francis continued with his explanation. "They're diminishing. I've seen improvements from yesterday, and I expect the burns to slowly dissipate completely."

"Which will restore his sight?" Catherine asked anxiously.

"Yes and no. I can't say how severely his retinas were burnt: if it's a complete deterioration or just minor. He could be temporarily blinded or permanently." The doctor handed her a prescription. "Painkillers, because he will experience pain. The pills might not be enough, but they'll knock him out a good eight hours."

"What do I do about the pain? How can I help him?" Catherine inquired softly.

"Any means possible, I guess. Just...just take his mind off things. I think the more he dwells on his incapacity, the harder it'll hit him." He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "I don't think people trust the human body enough, Miss Willows. Good mental health is always the best cure." Checking his pager, he excused himself.

Catherine stepped back into the room, and stood watching him fiddle with the cloth over his eyes. "Ready to go home?" She placed her hand on top of his. "The team must be wondering what happened." She informed him.

"They don't know?"

She shook her head and then realized his condition. Before, looks were all they needed to communicate, and now she wondered if their relationship was strong enough to survive on the next level: instincts. "No, they just know you had an accident." She helped him out of his bed and made way towards the door.

"Mr. Grissom!" The nurse called, stopping both CSIs. "That gauze is rather bulky, isn't it?" As she took it off to place a thinner piece of goggle-shaped gauze over his eyes, Catherine stared at him. Her eyes took in the burns, took in the almost zombie-like stare that looked back at her. "Self-adhesive." She stated, handing Catherine a box and jarring the strawberry-blonde from her thoughts. "Change it twice a day."

Catherine thanked the nurse and grabbed Gil by the arm, guiding him towards the parkinglot. She put on her shades, feeling the light come through the see-through doors.

"The sun feels good." Gil smiled, feeling energy from the Earth's star as well as his own star beside him. "You drive." He jested, putting on his sunglasses and allowing her to lead him.

In the car, both remained silent as Catherine drove to Gil's townhouse, though physical contact was made and kept through the entirety of the trip as Gil's hand had found solace on the outside of her thigh.

He sighed, giving her thigh a small squeeze - if anything to grant himself strength as he forced his regular apathetic expression to lay in wait on his face.

The car jolted to a stop in his driveway and she stared straight ahead, hands on the steering wheel. She glanced over, noting that he was facing away from her. Her eyes fell to his ear, understanding his positioning: he was _listening_ for her. "We're here." She stated softly, placing a hand on his, that still lay resting on her thigh. She smiled gently, realizing that she needed the contact as much as he did.

She helped him out of the car in silence, and guided him to the front door. Inside, she helped him to his room, beckoning him silently to lie down. She knelt at the foot of his bed, untying his laces and taking off his shoes. "As nice of a view it is whenever you walk in front of me, I bet you'd like something more comfortable to wear, huh?" She teased, giving his chest a small pat.

"Now that you mention it, I _was_ feeling a bit drafty." He replied, dryly.

She placed a folded pair of jogging pants and an old t-shirt on his lap. "Need me to dress you too?" She grinned, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He sat up, reaching behind and untying the ties that held the hospital gown securely. Letting it fall to his lap, he picked up the t-shirt and felt around the neck for the label.

Catherine watched as he repeated the same discovering-motions for his pants, frowning slightly as he stopped moving.

"If you keep watching, I'm going to have to charge you." He stated sternly, though humour was discernable.

She rolled her eyes, sighing out a little laugh. "Fine." She turned on her heel, staring at the wall, listening to him swing his legs over the edge of the bed. She heard the gown crumple to the floor, and glanced at him over her shoulder, just in time to watch him secure his pants around his waist.

"You peeked."

"Did not!" She clamped her lips together, trying to prevent the small giggles to surface.

"Liar."

She walked back towards him, coaxing him to lie down. As soon as she got him settled down in bed, the phone jarred each out of their thoughts. "I swear, they have this place bugged." She rolled her eyes, knowing full well that he was smiling at her pun. "I'll get you some water." She stated softly, picking up the receiver and handing it to him.

"Hello?" Gil answered. "Slow down...I'm fine." He covered the mouthpiece, and slowly turned his head from side to side, listening for her. After moments of not hearing her, he went back to his conversation with Nick. "Nicky, I'm going to be fine - whatever happens, it'll be alright." He paused, listening to the Texan frantically mouth out wishes and concerns, echoed by the rest of the team.

"Look, things happen for a reason, and," he paused, wondering whether to admit his weakness or not, "and as long as I have Catherine...have you guys by my side...I'll get over it." He smiled despite himself.

Catherine stood silently at the door, her fingers pressed to her lips. His admission touched her and rendered her speechless. She watched him wish his team and feel around for the cradle.

"How long are you going to stand there?" He asked, not surprised by her presence.

She let out a laugh. "You're going to have to show me that trick." She said, making her way to him.

"It's merely a question of getting what you want: hearing what you want to hear, smelling what you want to smell ... or seeing what you want to see." The last part was hushed and took a deep breath. "You have to go to work."

"They really need me?" She sighed, her fingers once again threading through his hair. She reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of pills. "I won't be gone for long - I'll be back in six hours." She said, handing him one and giving him a glass of water.

"I thought the pills last up to eight hours." He said, though it was muffled by the pill in his mouth. He downed it, and rested his head against the pillow.

"I know...I want to be here when you wake up." She smiled, knowing he could feel her smile.

He grasped her hands, applying a little pressure of gratitude.

She chanced the temptation, bending down and placed a feather light kiss on his lips. It was pure, meant to convey strength and security and she lightly brushed her thumb across his lower lip, wiping off any excess lip-gloss. "Take care - call me if you need anything, okay?"

He listened to her exit his room, he listened to the door close, he listened until he heard the Denali pull out of his driveway and he continued listening for her return until the pills kicked in, and guided him into a dreamless rest.

–TBC–


End file.
